


desire (my own / i own)

by humanveil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Grooming, M/M, Marauders' Era (Harry Potter), Non-Explicit, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24686464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: The boy is malleable. Abraxas thinks himself a teacher.
Relationships: Abraxas Malfoy/Severus Snape
Comments: 9
Kudos: 56





	desire (my own / i own)

**Author's Note:**

> woo, here’s a quick darkfic that’s been sitting in my google docs for a little while. i think i’m running out of blacks/malfoys to write snape with.
> 
>  **warnings** : i marked it ambiguous as it’s not explicitly underage, nor is it explicitly non-con, but those _are_ themes of the fic. also, abraxas’ interest in severus is said to start when severus is twelve, though there’s no sexual overtones to it. tagged as unreliable narrator as it’s in abraxas’ pov & his descriptions of severus and his reactions aren’t entirely truthful - severus’ consent is ambiguous. 
> 
> that said, enjoy!

Abraxas meets the boy when he’s twelve, almost thirteen. It’s his son that introduces them, his son that invites Severus into their home and parades him around like a party trick. He sees the point to it: there is no harm, he thinks, in cultivating relationships with those that are lessor, not when there are certain reputations that follow you like a shadow. It is good for Lucius, Abraxas muses as he watches the half-blooded boy navigate a sea of people far beyond his status, to extend the effort. It is high time he learnt how.

Abraxas has heard the rumours, of course; Lucius has offered more than one account of the boy’s talents. It’s reiterated here, now, as Horace speaks into his ear. _Brilliant_ , he says, the word rolling over his tongue, and Abraxas gives a perfectly-balanced hum in response, the sound neutral enough to mask just how deep his interest runs.

\---

The job offer is a natural escalation. The boy needs money, and Abraxas needs a brewer, preferably one with substantial skill and a disinclination to spilling secrets. It’s a perfect partnership, made better by the fact that Severus is often unable to work unless in close proximity.

He asks why one summer, subtly inquiring after the boy’s background as he eyes his son across the breakfast table. He’d known the boy’s mother, of course - if only vaguely - but that had been an age ago now, and his memories of little, fractious Eileen Prince don’t offer the insight he’s looking for.

Lucius snorts at the question, preoccupied as he skims a letter from his betrothed. “He lives in a Muggle slum,” he reveals. “The Ministry would catch on.” The letter is turned, a photograph falling from between the parchment. Abraxas pretends not to notice as his son scrambles, the image quickly tucked away into his robes. “Besides,” Lucius continues, righting himself as he finally looks up, “his father detests magic. He wouldn’t be allowed.”

The insinuation is subtle and yet distinct; Abraxas knows the language of veiled violence all too well. Lucius’ attention returns to his letter, and Abraxas leans back against his seat. His mouth curls, the smile thin-lipped and sinister.

Perhaps he and Severus are a perfect match in more ways than one.

\---

Severus is eager to prove himself, eager to _please_ ; he works with a diligence that is admirable, taking on tasks even when it’s unwise to do so. Abraxas showers him with praise and allows himself the luxury of watching the boy work. Severus is too smart for his own good, Abraxas ends up thinking. It’s obvious, the way the boy’s ambitions blind him. He’s too wrapped up in his own newfound hubris to notice the game he’s walked into.

Abraxas could almost feel guilty.

Instead, he takes to stalking the Manor’s labs, the opportunity for isolated observation too good to miss, and stays as close as he can while he assesses Severus’ work. He enjoys making the boy squirm - Severus is prone to it, twitchy by nature, entirely unusual - but this is different. It’s not his normal brand of discomfort. The boy tenses as Abraxas comes up behind him, his back rigid and breath bated while he waits to see what Abraxas will do. Abraxas takes a moment to savour it, his body too close for comfort as he breathes down the boy’s neck.

“You’re doing exquisitely,” he says, voice like expensive whiskey as he looks over Severus’ shoulder. “A vast improvement from your last attempt.”

The words aren’t the lie - Severus is a talented brewer, always looking for a way to better his skills. It’s the openness with which Abraxas says them that’s deceitful.

Before him, the boy’s torso trembles with a shiver. “Thank you, sir,” Severus says, impossibly polite and likely practiced. Abraxas has noticed, lately, the way the boy has picked up on all he’s tried to teach; Severus’ edges have smoothed, his manner slowly blending into the perfect emulation of a pure-blood.

Abraxas aches to touch.

\---

Years come and go, but despite the changes to the Wizarding world, one thing stays the same: Severus remains his. Lucius’, some would say, but Abraxas knows better. It is not his son who has crafted Severus into a fine young man, not his son who offers opportunities most in Severus’ position could only dream of. Not his son who sits with the boy on his seventeenth birthday, making quiet conversation in front of the crackling fire as snow falls outside.

Abraxas observes quietly. Severus is sat beside him, almost tucked beneath his arm as he sits hunched, the deep, dark black of his eyes sparkling with curiosity while he thumbs his way through the book in his lap. He’s been borrowing Abraxas’ tomes for years now, the Manor’s library open to him whenever he chooses to stay, but this in particular is a special occasion. _A birthday present,_ Abraxas had said, hiding his smirk as he’d passed the package over.

He’d thought it fitting. After all, it’s unlikely anyone else had gone to the effort of getting a gift.

The book itself is an encyclopaedia of poisons that could land them all in Azkaban. Severus’ eyes had lit up as he’d meticulously removed the wrapping. Abraxas could see it, the struggle: the desire to devour the book’s contents fighting the awareness that it would be considered rude to do so in his current situation. Abraxas had saved him the trouble of agonising over it.

 _Go on_ , he’d said, his voice warm with indulgence, and Severus had not waited to be told twice.

Abraxas watches now, biding his time. “I have another gift,” he tells the boy, thinking of the watch tucked safely in his bedside draw, “when you’re ready.”

\---

Natural escalations, Abraxas thinks, again. They move from his study to his bed, and then it’s easy: all that Abraxas wants finally within reach.

Severus has always been just how Abraxas likes them: young, already broken - unloved and _unlovely_. It makes them susceptible, malleable, a canvas for him to work with. He lies Severus down against his mattress, and the boy bends easily. Abraxas knows this is uncharted territory - the boy is too sensitive, his body torn between melting at every touch and pulling away from them, the stop-start reminiscent of some sort of dance.

“Relax, Severus,” Abraxas tells him, his lips pressed to the shell of the boy’s ear. “I’ll take care of you.”

He waits with waning patience for Severus to let go of all restraints and allow pleasure to sweep through, and then he takes what is so rightfully his.


End file.
